


The Beast of Ealdridge

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is terrorising the village of Ealdridge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beast of Ealdridge

Brother James hesitated at the Abbot’s door, hearing a stranger’s voice within; but the summons had been clear, and brooked no delay. He knocked discreetly and spoke softly enough that only another sentinel would hear him. “Sir?”

“Come in.” Abbot Simon’s voice held its usual hint of impatience, but nothing more. Simon was always a little irritable when his Companion, Abbot Joel, was absent.

James pushed the door open. “I’m sorry, your message reached me while at weapons practice. I  would have changed but-”

“It’s of no consequence.” Simon’s dark face was perfectly calm. He barely spared a glance for James’ dishevelment – his shirt was grubby and untidily tucked in haste into his oldest, badly scuffed, leather breeches. His boots were a downright disgace, here in this office. “This is Brother Blair of Ealdridge.”

The stranger was a Scoan, by the rough brown habit he wore. It wasn’t an order James had much respect for; a bunch of eccentrics was the kindest interpretation for their antics. James received a vague impression of a blunt featured but comely face badly in need of a razor round the jaw, and dark springy hair pulled back into a long messy braid. His sandals were caked with dust and his toes as grubby as might be expected. It was difficult to focus on these attributes when a pair of sparkling, vivid blue eyes were fixed so resolutely on him.

Brother Blair smiled at James, apparently oblivious to any lack of welcome. “Well met, Brother James. And thank you.”

James sought explanation with a glance at his Abbot’s dark face.

Simon cleared his throat. “Ealdridge has suffered a… a visitation, these last three months. Brother Blair has come to seek our help.”

“Your own Order-”

Simon spoke abruptly. “Is not able tohelp. This is a situation that requires a more direct intervention. The Abbot of the chapter in Olympia has requested our help. Bother Blair?”

The monk nodded sombrely. “A Beast is terrorising our village. It comes at night, always, and only during the Dark of the Moons. So far it has killed only animals, but I fear it will not be satisfied with these unfortunates for much longer. And the Dark will return in four nights.”

“It is supernatural?” This was interesting, at least.

“No…” Blair seemed uncertain. “Or, at least, not ephemeral. But possibly not entirely natural either.”

Typical Scoan – it was impossible to get anything useful out of them. Still, the situation seemed exactly the kind of thing James and his brother Knights Sentinel were trained to deal with. James glanced across at Simon. “I have your blessing?”

Simon nodded. “You do.”

***

It was a mixture of practicality and professional courtesy that prompted James to sit beside Brother Blair at dinner. He would be spending several days in  the Scoan’s company. Best to get the measure of  him before they set out, he thought.

After the Thanksgiving, one of the novices began to read from the Book, as was their Rule at mealtimes, so for the moment James was spared the need to converse. He noticed that the Scoan had made an effort to tidy up – his face freshly shaved, and hair tidily braided. That, at least, he could approve, if not Brother Blair’s choice of religious order.

He had never been the most devout amongst his brethren – if he had not been born a sentinel, James never would have considered taking holy orders. He followed the Rule, as he had vowed to do, both to the letter and spirit; but he did so because he was a man of his word, not out of the kind of freakishly sentimental piety that seemed to be the norm within the Scoan order.

When the meal ended with Abbot Simon’s blessing, James turned to Blair, offering a polite smile as they rose from the table. “I’m going to the stables to see to my mount. Would you care to check that yours is settled comfortably?”

“Oh, there’s no need.” Seeing the disapproval James did not trouble to hide, he chuckled a little as he rose from the bench and walked beside him to the Refectory door. “I walked. But I would gladly-”

“From Ealdridge?” It must have taken him at least three or four days.

Blair looked surprised. “No, I came from Olympia. I had to report the matter first to my abbot.”

“So you walked from Ealdridge to Olympia and then to here?” James shook his head in bemusement. No wonder Brother Blair’s sandals had been so dusty. “I’ll see if we can spare you a horse. Or a mule, if you prefer.”

“I prefer to walk.” Blair’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “But I would like to meet your horse.”

“As you wish.” He opened the stable door, wondering what Simon had let him in for. “That’s Rainier, in the third stall.”

“Oh, what a handsome fellow you are.” Blair moved forward, lifting a cautious hand to allow Rainier to sniff it. The stallion nudged hopefully at his shoulder. “No, I have nothing for you, I’m afraid.”

“Give him this and you’ll have a friend for life.” James tossed an apple, and Blair caught it deftly. “He’s completely shameless.”

While Blair murmured endearments, James slipped into the stall to check that Ranier had all the hay he needed and to give him a quick brush. He almost had to drag the Scoan away, afterwards, so deep was he in conversation with Rainier.

***

They left the chapterhouse the following morning, James riding and Brother Blair on foot. This, apparently, was the way Scoan monks preferred to travel. Even allowing for his determined stride, it was going to take them a week to reach his benighted village. James allowed an hour to pass, then reined in his horse.

“It will go faster if you ride pillion,” he offered. “Rainier can carry double easily enough.” It would be slower than if Brother Blair had his own mount but certainly faster than at walking pace.

Brother Blair looked up at him with a smile. He always seemed to be smiling. Then he turned his head and addressed the horse. “Brother Steed, it would be a great favour if you were to allow me to ride. Your master is eager to begin his task and I fear his patience will be sorely tried otherwise.” James didn’t miss the brief, teasing glance in his direction.

Whether the horse answered or no, it seemed the monk was satisfied. He hitched up his robe a little and extended a hand to James. James obliged and with a quick, lithe movement Brother Blair settled in the saddle behind him. It meant James was pushed forward against the pommel, but he’d carried a brother warrior behind him often enough and it wasn’t any great inconvenience. He nudged Rainier with his heels and the horse started off at a steady, ground-eating pace.

***

They broke their journey that night at a small inn. There were no beds, but the stable was comfortable enough. Blair laid down his blanket beside James’ on a thick pile of straw and stretched out with a sigh.

It was early yet and, in no mood to sleep, James decided to indulge his curiosity. “So, what prompted you to take your vows with the Scoan Order?” The question sounded abrupt, and he added hastily, “If you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I don’t mind.” Blair removed his gaze from the roof beams and turned his head toward James. “It was chance, as much as anything. My mother is Judic, but she joined the Travellers when I was just a babe; my earliest memories are of the Travellers. They were the only family I knew.”

It was hard for James to imagine such a life. He had grown up in a city, his father’s house the only home he’d known until he joined the Order of the Knights Sentinel. “Did you like it? Never staying long in any place?”

Blair smiled. “Oh, yes.”

There was not the slightest hesitation in Blair’s response. As strange as it seemed to James, Blair clearly had enjoyed his early years. “Why did you leave, then?”

“My mother became ill. We couldn’t move on when it came time to leave the village where we were camped, so my mother and I sought help from the local cleric.” Blair rolled onto his side to face James, propping himself up on his elbow. “Brother Marcus taught me so much while we stayed with him. I wanted to know more, so when Naomi – my mother – was well enough to rejoin the Travellers, I stayed behind.”

“And took your vows.”

“Well, that came later.” Blair’s eyes dropped to study the weave of his blanket for a moment before rising to meet James’ gaze. “And you? Why did you take your vows?”

There were many answers James could have given – the most obvious that he was born a sentinel. But the Order was not the only option that had been available to him, the son of a well-to-do minor nobleman. He decided on the blunt truth. “Because I knew it would anger my father.”

Blair’s spurt of surprised laughter was infectious, and he grinned, deciding to elaborate. “My father would have had me join the Emperor’s Elite. He hoped to use my powers to advance his business and his social standing. I preferred… otherwise. Also, I believed, rightly as it turned out, that the disciplines of the Order would better help me gain mastery over my powers without the need for a Companion. I prefer to work alone.”

“Should I apologise?” Blair asked teasingly.

James shook his head. “This is different.” But, encouraged by the friendly exchange, he reached over and tweaked the end of Blair’s braid, where it hung down across his chest. “Why this? It’s not a Rule, surely?”

“No. That was a personal vow, when I was initiated.” Blair’s smile grew warmer, as though the memory was a pleasant one. “I was keeping my vigil the night before, and… I had a vision, or perhaps a dream. When I described it to Abbot Jeremy, he said it was a sign. That my true vocation lay elsewhere, but the way to finding it was through the Scoan Order. I took a vow not to cut my hair until I found my true vocation.” He laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t think it would take so many years.”

James laughed too, and thought that he could have fared much worse with his travelling companion.   

***

Even riding double, they had no difficulty in reaching Ealdridge late on the second day. Brother Blair hastily dismounted as the villagers came streaming out to meet them, greeting Blair with smiles and obvious affection while to James they nodded respectfully, holding back from approaching him too closely. As the small crowd turned back towards the village – a collection of round wattle and daub huts for the most part – James dismounted and led Rainier on a loose rein. The horse knew well enough how to behave amongst strangers.

Blair might be deep in serious discussion with an older man, but when they reached the village square, he beckoned over a youth and brought him to meet James. “Alfric will tend to Rainier. He’ll take good care of our friend.”

“Your friend, perhaps.” James muttered.

Blair just smiled, as he did at all James’ grumbling. “Magret will provide us a meal, and there’s water set to heating in the bathouse.”

The prospect of a bath raised James’ spirits considerably. It had only been two days on the trail, but his nose was protesting the scent of his own body. “That’s most welcoming of them. Thank you.”

He still followed after Rainier as Alfric led him away. It would take time to heat enough water for a bath, and he’d be easier in his mind if he saw the horse’s accommodations for himself. The village was tidy, but hardly prosperous enough to have their own stable.

The little hut that Alfric led them to had a door barely high enough and wide enough for Rainier to enter, but there was enough room inside for the horse’s comfort; he’d fared less well on many occasions. Once satisfied that Alfric could handle a high bred steed, James asked the direction to the monk’s house and shouldered his kit bag.

Brother Blair’s cottage was distinguishable from the others only by the Holy Sign on the doorframe. It was typically Scoan to ignore the respect due to God’s representative and make a show of modesty and simplicity, James thought with a burst of irritability. He rapped sharply on the frame and waited for Blair to let him in.

The inside of the cottage was exactly what could be expected from the outside – a packed earth floor, clean enough, and bare of all but the most basic furnishings. There was hardly room for more than what was there; just a small table and a narrow cot along one wall. In the centre was the hearth, where a small fire glittered merrily, the smoke drifting up to filter through the thatch. At least it was dry and would soon be warm.

“Welcome, Brother James, to my home.” Blair took his kit bag and set it near the table which, James noticed, boasted only one chair. “Magret and Tamis will have some bedding brought over shortly. You may take the cot if you wish and I can sleep on the floor before the fire.”

“That won’t be necessary.” James said politely. “The floor will suit me well enough.” He wondered if Brother Blair would be interested in Sharing. It hadn’t occurred to him to think of it before, but suddenly it seemed like a good idea. It had been too long since the last time – he’d almost forgotten when – and there was nothing offensive about the young monk. Nothing more offensive, at least, than his overly cheerful disposition.

Another tap on the door heralded the arrival of Magret with a large pot of something with a decidedly savoury aroma and the welcome news that the water was ready for their baths. She deposited the pot on the edge of the hearth to keep warm and departed, leaving James and Blair to follow when they’d gathered together a change of undergarments and towels.

The bathhouse hardly deserved its name, being little more than a lean-to with a wooden tub barely big enough to hold two men at the same time. At the chapterhouse, they’d installed individual baths in separate cubicles, but James was used to communal bathing from his travels. He wasted no time in stripping off his shirt and breeches, leaving his drawers on for modesty’s sake. He noticed that Blair did likewise, and was pleasantly surprised by the trim, muscular build of the monk’s body. He might be small, but he was certainly not scrawny, or at all flabby. James decided he would definitely approach the subject of Sharing when the opportunity arose. In the meantime, he sank into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure. If he had one weakness of the flesh it was this.

They soaked for a while in companionable silence before getting busy with soap and cloth. It was a small luxury to have someone to scrub his back and a pleasure to be able to return the favour. Perhaps too much of a pleasure, for James found his attention wandering as he stroked soapy cloth over firm muscle. He drew himself back from the brink and ducked underneath the water before rising to his feet and stepping out of the bath.

Blair remained behind, reaching up to unwind his braid from a knot at the nape of his neck. “I’ll be a little longer, I’m afraid,” he said with a small grimace. His fingers nimbly unravelled the braid and he ducked his head under the water, then set about working soap thoroughly into the wet strands. Another ducking and he too clambered out over the high sides of the tub.

By this time James was almost dressed again, his skin revelling in the freshness of a clean shirt and pair of drawers, even if the rest of his clothes, of necessity, must be worn in all their travel grime. He could not help but admire the view as Brother Blair, his drawers now almost translucent, bent over to retrieve a bucket of clean water to pour over his long hair. Not only was he possessed of a neat, rounded arse, but when he straightened, James caught sight of an entirely satisfactory package outlined by the wet, clinging cloth. He felt his cock twitch in silent appreciation and saw that Blair had noticed his attention, but Blair said nothing and neither did James.

It took some time for Blair to rinse and then wring the water out of his hair. When finished it hung almost to his arse, the weight of the water straightening out the curls. When Blair was finally satisfied, he hastily folded the still very damp strands into a loose braid, then set about drying himself off and getting dressed. That, at least, took little time.

It was darkening outside, when they walked back to Blair’s cottage and it was more than welcoming to go into a warm, flame-lit room redolent with the scent of hearty stew and newly baked bread. Someone – Magret probably – had brought a little three-legged stool to supplement the seating arrangements and there was a pile of bedding spread out beside the fire.

They each said their Thanks in their own fashion before eating in an appreciative silence, but once their hunger had been assuaged and a good long draught of beer washed the meal down, James found that Blair was looking at him with a definite air of speculation.

It was time, James decided, to broach the subject that had been on his mind for the last hour or more. He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “Does your order allow Sharing?”

Blair’s eyes twinkled. “We take vows of chastity, not celibacy. Although some brothers _do_ take such a vow.”

“But you did not.” James leaned cautiously against the back of his chair, uncertain of its reliability. He had no such doubt of Blair’s answer.

Blair didn’t trouble to reply, merely tearing off a hunk of bread and using it to mop the last remaining puddles of gravy from his bowl. “It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“That I am.” James answered peaceably.

***

The bedding on the floor was surprisingly comfortable, with a well padded sack of straw covered by a large cowskin and linens that were barely less finely woven than those James would expect to have at the chapterhouse. Someone, obviously, was aware of the requirements of a Knight Sentinel. The whole thing was topped off with a fine goose-down comforter for warmth. James stripped down to his drawers and slid beneath the sheets with a sigh of pleasure, clasped his hands loosely behind his head and waited patiently.

Blair turned away from the little shrine where he’d been saying his Devotions – James had already said his own while Blair tidied away the remains of their meal – and came over to the hearth. “Do you wish to Share, Brother Knight?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, Brother Monk.” James allowed a hint of impatience to enter his voice. Then, as Blair waited, rolled his eyes and said: “Yes, I wish to Share.”

A tiny smile pleated the corners of Blair’s mouth and James’ eyes narrowed. He suspected the monk of toying with him. But Blair only turned away, saying “I won’t be long.”

James closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift in anticipation of pleasure. It would be a pity if the new fashion for taking vows of celibacy were to become the Rule. As a cleric he was forbidden to marry or procreate, along with his vows of poverty and obedience. It was for that reason that many Religious chose to Share with their own sex and, more often than not, only with Brothers or Sisters who were likewise sworn. Chastity was both natural and understandable; celibacy, he regarded as neither, and unhealthy besides.

“Why the frown?” James opened his eyes as the covers lifted and Blair slipped beneath them. He remained at a small distance, propped on one elbow and regarding James with an expression of mild concern.

“Wearisome thoughts, nothing more.” James unclasped his hands, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of hair at Blair’s temple. “You may, if you wish, distract me from them.”

Blair’s chuckle was rich and warm – James had noted this before – as he leaned over James, his lips parting. “Gladly, Brother Knight.”

His mouth tasted just as rich and warm, redolent with herbs from the meal they’d shared; and as Blair sank down beside him, James rolled onto his side and allowed himself the luxury of freeing his senses to roam where they would. It surprised him a little that he was so ready to trust himself to a Scoan but, for all their flighty reputation, Blair had proven himself reliable during their travels.

They must have kissed for a long time, for when James drew back from the brink of Absence, his lips were tender and swollen, and his hands were tangled sweetly in the curls falling loose from Blair’s braid. His skin was tingling too under the gentle ministrations of Blair’s hands. He sighed in pleasure, moving his hands over Blair’s wide shoulders and down his sides, learning by touch the trim, firm body he’d seen in the bathhouse. When he reached Blair’s waist he realised for the first time that Blair had not bothered with modesty and had entered his bed entirely naked.

Suddenly the languorous explorations seemed unbearably protracted. James moaned aloud, his cock throbbing in protest. Instantly, his mouth was claimed briefly by Blair and firm hands urged him onto his back. Warm breath puffed against his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

“Please.” He was helpless, anyway, to refuse.

Soft kisses trailed down his throat, neither lingering nor hurrying. He felt Blair’s hand fumbling with the tie of his drawers, tugging it loose, then slipping inside to lie gently over his cock. He choked back a cry, his senses afire now with an urgency he hadn’t felt in many years.

The brush of warm lips against his nipple barely registered; his hips lifted seeking a stronger pressure from Blair’s hand, but then it was gone and only the teasing cling of his drawers remained. He moaned a protest and managed to slit open his eyes to see what had become of Blair.

His companion was no more than a lump under the bed covers, a situation which his dazed mind had no ability to decipher until he felt a puff of damp breath against his cock. Then the slow, seductive glide of a tongue from root to tip. James shuddered in mingled relief and appreciation as his cock was enveloped in a heat greater than its own. He rocked his hips a little and heard a happy gurgle, felt the vibrations of it in his cock.

Brother Blair was obviously well-skilled in this. He lavished attention on every part of James’ cock, alternately teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue and gently laving the almost painfully sensitive cockhead, and then swallowing the whole member down as far as he could take it and sucking fiercely. Then, just when James thought he could bear no more stimulation, a touch behind his balls sent waves of liquid fire through his belly.

He choked back a cry, remembering just in time that the walls of these huts did little to ensure privacy and while the villagers were no doubt accustomed to ignoring such sounds, they were probably not expecting them to come from Brother Blair’s hut. When he felt in danger of failing in that small caution, he jammed his fist against his mouth to muffle any further noise.

Slowly, his senses returned to him, and James realised that he’d done little to ensure Blair’s pleasure. Shame flooded him and he reached under the covers, drawing him up with a firm grip on his shoulders. “Allow me to reciprocate,” he murmured and took a kiss from Blair’s reddened lips.

He tasted himself in the monk’s mouth and revelled in the taste; but it would be cruel to linger there when the evidence of Blair’s arousal was rudely making itself known against his thigh. He made to slide down under the covers, to pleasure Blair as he deserved, but Blair stopped him with a grip on his arm. “Your hand,” he said hoarsely. “Your hand is all I could bear right now.”

Indeed, he was trembling violently, and James reached down between them, wrapping his fingers around the burning heat of Blair’s cock. Blair made a soft, keening sound and buried his face against James’ throat. His hips jerked and then stilled as Blair shuddered and clutched at James’ chest.

It disappointed James that he could offer no more than this; he had little to do but make a firm fist for Blair to push into, and stroke a gentle thumb tip over his cockhead on every other thrust. And few enough of those; within moments Blair convulsed, muffling his cry against James’ shoulder. His essence spurted furiously over James’ hand and, with one last shudder, Blair collapsed half on top of him. His heart was pounding as though a hundred hell-hounds were chasing him.

Satisfied on both his own and Blair’s accounts, James allowed himself to drift again, aware only of the heat and damp of their bodies and the flickering light from the banked embers in the hearth against his closed eyelids. After a minute or two, Blair left the bed with an indistinct mutter, returning before James could rouse himself to protest. He felt the cool damp touch of a cloth on his belly and hand and then Blair was curled up against his side once more.

James turned his head and breathed in Blair’s scent – soap, and musk from their Sharing, and the underlying aroma of his body – and sighed in pleasure.

***

Next morning, they broke their fast with thick slabs of bread and a tart, salty, goat cheese, slasking their thirst with a tisane of herbs, the bitter edge sweetened with a good dollop of honey. It was plain fare, but as good as last night’s stew. Brother Blair might live in a simple village, but food at least seemed plentiful and pleasant to the taste.

The morning was spent on chores – James taking care of Rainier’s needs and checking his tack and weapons while Blair made calls at various cottages, reassuring the inhabitants, both human and animal. James noticed with amusement that several chickens had taken a liking to the Scoan, who stopped from time to time to address his feathered following in all apparent seriousness. Some of the village curs, likewise, received his attentions with friendly curiosity. Even the cats deigned to accept his friendly advances with a kind of insouciant approbation.

“You don’t really believe they understand you.”

Blair met his eyes, a humorous glint in his own. “I believe they are as much God’s creatures as I am. Who knows what they understand? Or what I may learn from them.”

James shook his head, grinning a little, and with more forebearance that he’d ever imagined he possessed let the matter drop. “Can they tell you anything about the Beast?”

Blair sighed. “Only that it is real and no phantom.”

“Did you think it was?” James observed the play of emotions on Blair’s face with curiosity.

“At first, perhaps. The Beast leaves no tracks that any of us has ever found.” Blair spread his hands in frustration. “And yet… no animal I know of has ever behaved like this one – appearing only at the Dark, never when the moons are full. It smacks of human intelligence.”

It had puzzled James too. “Then what do you think is its purpose?”

“That, I cannot say.” Blair shrugged, worrying his bottom lip with small, pearly teeth. “But I fear its malevolance. Soon, just terrorising the villagers will not suffice. I fear it will kill.”

James smiled grimly. “Not if I find it first.”

***

Later, Blair led James to the places where the Beast had been seen. Or, at least, half glimpsed, for nobody had seen it clearly. A large, pale creature with mottled coat, lurking in shadow and undergrowth, more often heard than seen – the sound of its cry unearthly and terrifing, like no animal ever known.

He found no sign of anything untoward, but hadn’t really expected to. The Beast came only in the Dark, and that was nearly a month since. Not even a sentinel could detect animal traces after such a length of time.

The next Dark would start tomorrow night, and for three nights the Beast would haunt the village. As they turned back, James promised himself he would be ready for it. In the meantime… James found himself becoming distracted, too aware of the way Blair’s wide shoulders moved beneath the coarse brown robe he wore. Or the purposeful stride, the swing of his hips, as he walked. It was all too easy to picture the body inside that all concealing garment, so unlike James’ close fitting tunic and leather breeches. Even the sway of that long braid held the power to hypnotise.

It would never do. James had Shared often enough, and though it had been months since the last time, that was no excuse. This kind of distraction was unwise, and precisely the reason his Order required a vow of chastity. It was fortunate, then, that in a day or two at the most this would all be over and he on his way back to the Chapter house, leaving Blair behind.

When they reached the village once more, James arranged to interview those few who had claimed to actually see the Beast. Perhaps he might learn something more. At the very least, he could avoid being alone in Blair’s company until evening. And after that… well, there was no reason not to Share, if Blair desired it.

The thought crossed his mind that he was being rather inconsistent, that perhaps he shouldn’t Share with Blair again. James firmly dismissed it.

***

As it turned out, the villagers had decided to welcome formally the presence of a Knight Sentinel in their village with an impromtu feast. All their best foods including, James suspected, some of Blair’s feathered audience from this morning were brought forth in his honour, and the alewife’s best brew flowed freely. James sampled the food carefully before relaxing his guard. There was nothing too heavily flavoured and the ale was very good indeed.

When everyone’s appetites were satisfied, one of the younger lads drew out a small whistle, and a girl, blushing, took up her harp. Someone else trummed lightly on a tambour and several villagers raised their voices in a merry ballad. More songs followed, and then one of the children begged a story of Blair.

Immediately, silence fell, and all eyes turned to Blair. Obviously, this was a favoured treat. He smiled a little hesitantly, but cleared his throat and waited until there was not even the slightest sound before saying:  “Let me tell you the tale of Brother Wolf and his quest.”

A sigh rippled through the small assembly and as one, they gazed expectantly up at him.

Brother Blair was, clearly, a born story teller. He spoke simply, but with a subtlety of feeling that held his listeners spellbound, and none more so than James. And when it came to an end, he could not have said what the story was about, so drunk was he on the sound of Blair’s voice. Perhaps he had fallen into the Absence he so despised as weakness; he couldn’t tell. But if so, this time at least he could feel no shame for it.

It was late. Very late by village standards, and people began to drift away, softly muttering their good nights as though reluctant to break the spell Blair’s voice had woven around them. James left too, not waiting on Blair who was talking to one of the elders. The night air revived him, dispelling the hazy pleasure of the evening with its briskness.

He’d barely competed his last Devotions at Blair’s little shrine when Blair came into the cottage. Rising, James turned to him with a smile. “That  was a rare treat. Thank you.”

Unaccountably, Blair blushed and lowered his eyes. “I’m glad you enjoyed the tale. It’s a favourite of the villagers.” For a moment it seemed like he might say something more, but then he nodded towards the shrine. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You haven’t, I’ve finished.” James gestured towards the fire. His bedding was still folded tidily away against the wall. “I’ll just…”

Blair smiled. “And I’ll do my Devotions.”

“I’d like… that is, if you want…” Ludicrously, James found himself tongue-tied. An ache settled in his chest and he didn’t know how to continue.

“I _would_ like.” Blair’s voice roughened slightly. “Very much.”

“Good.” James turned away before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.

***

They slept late by design, rising well after noon since they had no idea how late they would need to be alert this night. The Beast never appeared until full darkness. Once again, they walked over the places where Blair thought the Beast had appeared. Some of the villagers reports, he conceded, were too vague for any certainty. It was enough, James thought, for him to formulate a plan. One that did not include Blair.

When informed of this, Blair objected. Vehemently.

“Unless your training included weapons, I’m better alone.” James pointed out, reasonably enough, he thought. “What do you propose to do? Sing psalms to the Beast? Ask it politely to go away?”

Blair scowled. “You don’t know the village or the countryside like I do. And I can look after myself.”

James sighed irritably. “It will be pitch black, with no moons rising. I need to know that any movement will be my prey, and not have to second guess whether I’m attacking friend or foe.”

“Are you telling me that you – a Knight Sentinel – cannot tell the difference, even with no more than starlight to aid you?” Blair asked, sceptically. “Perhaps you need a Companion, after all.”

James held onto his temper with difficulty. “We don’t know what this Beast is capable of.”

“All the more reason for me to come with you.” And from that opinion, Blair flatly refused to budge.

***

Dusk found them in their hiding place, on the edge of the small coppice that bordered the westernmost field of the village. It would probably be several hours before the Beast made its appearance. All the villagers and their animals were safely inside; even the cats that usually prowled at night were absent, and the ducks were huddled unhappily together in the centre of the large fish pond. 

The night was unnaturally quiet. It created in James an uneasiness that distracted him and set his senses prickling so that he was almost relieved when the first unearthly wail cut through the heavy silence. Quietly, James slipped his sword from its sheath and waited, senses straining for any clue to the location of the Beast. The sound could have come from anywhere.

There should have been some indicaton. The weird dissonant cry was repeated, not unlike a cat’s yowl, but it came from no cat James had ever encountered. It echoed off the trees and the huts of the village, seemingly coming from every direction at once. Still, a Sentinel of James’ abilities should have been able to pick out other sounds – the brush of a furred body moving through long grass, the soft footfall that would tell him where his target lay. But there was nothing. Nor could he see anything by the faint light of the stars but dark shadows on darker background.

The cry came again, rising to a hideous crescendo, more violent than before. Through it, he heard Blair’s quiet voice. “Can you tell-”

“Hush!” James strained to make sense of the echoes that followed the Beast’s noise. It was the only way he could hope to locate it. “North, I think. Stay here.”

Ignoring Blair’s muttered objection, James swiftly but carefully made his way northwards, staying close to the edge of the trees. He could see nothing, nor was there any scent that did not belong to the village.

The Beast had fallen silent, but James was under no illusion that it had left. The unnatural stillness told him that the wild creatures of the night were laying low. Suddenly, he heard a low rumbling sound and thought he saw a dark shadow against the tree trunks. He held still, barely breathing, but then the Beast’s cry came again; this time unmistakeably from his left, between him and the village. He cursed softly and turned away from the shelter of the trees. Again, he saw the dark shadow, moving swiftly, some feet away but parallel to his path. Whatever it was, this was not the Beast that was making such a fearsome noise. Was this some kind of Sign? Blair would certainly think so, and James, cursing himself for a fool, followed when the phantom veered back towards Blair’s hiding place. If it was a Sign… but it was too dangerous to call out a warning.

The Beast shrieked again, the sound wild with fury. And near, if James was any judge, to the village. As long as Blair had stayed where James had left him, he would be safe enough. He glanced across to the shadow animal at his left and caught the glint of starlight from a large, luminescent eye. Like a cat’s, but the creature was far greater in size than any cat ever seen. He heard it growl quietly, and again the sound was reminiscent of a cat, yet there was no air of malevolence such as the villagers had reported of the Beast.

Suddenly, his mysterious companion let out a cry, at the same time as the Beast yowled again in fury. It surged ahead and James, struck by a strange urgency, pushed himself to the greatest speed he dared risk in such darkness.

A wolf howled mournfully. It sounded uncomfortably close, and the hairs on the back of James’ neck prickled. Abandoning all common sense, he ran as fast as he was able and the creature kept pace with him, guiding him toward the large pond that kept the villagers in fish during the lean months of winter. In the distance he could see the gleam of starlight on the rippling surface.

The long wailing cry of the Beast reached its crescendo, joined by the ululations of the wolf and the angry growl of James’ companion. Then all three fell silent.

“Blair!” Dread gripped James, unreasoning but too strong to be denied. He called again, but there was no answer. All he could do was follow the creature, skirting along the edge of the pond to where a blank spot interrupted the restless movement of the surface.

As soon as he was close enough, James plunged into the pond, not even knee deep but numbingly cold. He caught a fold of cloth between his outstretched fingers and first dragged, then carried the sodden, heavy bundle to dry ground. Beneath his questing fingers, Blair’s face was icy and still. There was no heartbeat but his own. No sound of breathing or woosh of blood through veins.

“No.” He pushed at Blair’s chest, forcing the water out of unresisting lungs. He bent over, breathing into Blair’s mouth. “No! Blair!”

His heart was pounding; this could not be. With every fibre of his being, James knew it. He held Blair’s face between his palms, desperate and helpless. “Don’t go. Please, Blair. Don’t you go.”

Darkness, deeper even than the moonsless night, overtook him. James welcomed it, embracing the emptiness of Absence.

But it was not that… even here, light glimmered in the distance. He was among trees, strange lush growth, with a rough track dividing them. He could see a wolf, far ahead of him, running towards the distant light, and James knew he could not allow the wolf to reach it. He called, a hoarse, animal growl, and began to run, his hind legs pushing him in powerful bounds, his forelegs springing him forwards. He was gaining on the wolf, but it wouldn’t be enough. He cried out again, and the wolf hesitated. A moment later it turned and came back along the track. Almost at the end of his strength, James forced himself on. They were close now, so close; and then the wolf leapt into the air. Without thought, James likewise threw himself up and forward. They met in a collision of light and power.

Beneath his still fingers, Blair’s body convulsed. He choked, spewing up yet more water. James felt the heavy thud of Blair’s heartbeat against his palm. With a choked invocation to the Deity, he lifted Blair into his arms, cradling him against his chest as Blair struggled to breathe.

***

It took a great deal of persuasion and even more physical support to get Blair back to his little home. It would be hours till dawn and although it seemed unlikely that all – or any – of the villagers would be asleep, James had no desire to deal with their questions. Even if he had to carry Blair the last few dozen steps.

The welcome warm inside Blair’s hut revived James somewhat, but set Blair to shivering uncontrollably. James lost no time in stripping off every stitch of clothing Blair wore. There was water sitting in a bucket on the hearth for their morning tisane. James used it to wash away the sour reek of the pond water before towelling Blair vigorously. The last of the water he spent on rinsing out Blair’s braid as best he could before loosing it and wrapping it into the damp towel.

He bundled Blair into the bedding they’d shared for the last two nights before stripping off his own clothing and climbing in behind him. Between the fire and James’ body, Blair should be warm soon enough. The Beast could wait until tomorrow night. He’d heard nothing of it since finding Blair, and in any case, he would not leave Blair alone again this night.

About his own eerie companion and the wolf’s unseen yet almost tangible presence, James resolutely refused to think. Instead, he focused his senses on Blair, keeping watch over his heartbeat and laboured breathing. Exhausted, he drifted in and out of sleep while Blair twitched and muttered in his arms.

Towards dawn, Blair woke with a shudder and a soft cry, turning in James’ arms. They kissed, slowly, with no heat or passion, but purely for comfort. And although James would have been glad of more, Blair was clearly beyond offering it, his cock never more than half hard against James’ thigh. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep again and when James woke it was full day.

He slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake Blair, and dressed quickly. In the warm air of the hut his boots and stockings, all that he’d gotten wet, were almost dry, but he left them and padded out in his bare feet to use the Necessary and draw water from the well.

Magret and Tamis approached him immediately, while the other villagers went about their tasks, throwing anxious glances in James’ direction. In response to their questions he related a highly edited version of the night’s events, telling them only that the Beast had appeared and that Blair had fallen into the fish pond and been sorely chilled.

At this news, Magret’s lips pursed. “He’ll need feverwort and garlic. And mint for his breathing. Comfrit for his lungs.” She bustled off, heading for her own hut.

Tamis chuckled. “She’ll take good care of him. But what of the Beast?”

“I didn’t see it, but it was here, as I’m sure you know.” James waited for Tamis’ grim nod. “I’ll keep watch alone tonight. It’s better to give it a single target. Then I’ll deal with it.” Tonight, hopefully, Blair wold be more amenable.

***       

James was sitting in the sunshine, sipping the last of his tisane when Blair finally emerged, his hair still loose and sleep-tumbled. He didn’t pause, but stumbled off in the direction of the Necessary with barely a nod in James’ direction. Having grown accustomed to Blair’s lack of cheer in the mornings, James accepted this equitably enough, taking one last sip and setting aside the rough pottery mug.

By the time Blair returned, Magret was waiting for him with a large mug smelling strongly of garlic. She held it out to him as he recoiled. “You’ll need this, if you want to avoid neumony, Brother Blair. Mind you drink it all up.” She looked sternly at James, who smiled sweetly and promised to ensure that Blair drained every last drop.

Blair sighed and dropped down onto the small wooden bench beside James. He took a cautious sip, grimaced and put the mug down, reaching for the bread and honey on James’ platter.

There was an awkward silence between them that James was sorry for, but couldn’t quite bring himself to break. He inspected Blair’s face, still a little pale, and listend to his congested breathing. Then he frowned as his gaze dropped a little. He brushed aside the thick strands of hair and traced the dark shadow on Blair’s throat with the tip of his finger. “No animal made that mark.”

“No.” Blair took a bite out of the bread, and chewed mightily. He seemed reluctant to talk, and not because of a sore throat, James suspected. “There was a woman.”

Of all the things Blair could have said, that was not anything James would have expected. “A woman? Not the Beast?”

“She controls it somehow. It’s not real… not _physically_ real. It must be she who attacked the village animals.” Blair took another bite, chewed, and eased it down with a gulp of tisane. “Ow.”

“Take smaller bites.” James offered without much sympathy. “What does she want?”

Blair appeared to consider this while taking another sip of tisane. “I… this is going to sound… well, strange, but I think she wants – wanted – me. But then she got angry, and that’s when…” he lifted a hand to his throat.

“A woman did that to you?” Blair wasn’t a warrior, but he had strength and was resourceful enough, James knew. “She… drow… pushed you into the pond?”

“She stunned me with a blow from behind and held me under.” Blair’s voice was rough with more than just the soreness of his throat. “And then… it was so strange, James… like a dream. I was in a forest, and there was a light. I was running towards it when a huge black cat came after me and-”

“I saw it too.” The words were out before James could prevent himself from speaking. “You were a wolf, and… you came back.”

“Yes.” For the first time, Blair really looked at James, his eyes wide but steady. “If I was the wolf, then you were the cat. What do you think it means?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “How would I know? I’ve never had such a dream before, far less shared it with anyone else.” Not entirely true. Sometimes, a sentinel might have visions, sent by the Deity, but he’d certainly never heard of any shared ones before. Still, he felt that he had failed Blair in some obscure fashion and it left him confused and a little resentful.

Blair looked away and the silence fell again, even more constrained than before. He finished his bread and honey and drank all the tisane, then set about braiding his hair tidily away. To James’ sensitive nose it still stank of the fish pond, but he said nothing.

***

Not without difficulty, James convinced Blair to remain behind that night. It had helped that Magret had warned of dire consquences if Blair ventured out in the chill night air, but the discomfort that now lay between them was the most persuasive argument, James thought.

Now that he knew there was a human intelligence behind the Beast’s visitations, James’ plan of action had changed. He made no attempt to conceal himself, but waited beside the fish pond for the woman to arrive.

He saw the gleam of her hair first. She was tall, almost as tall as him and, like him, dressed all in black. She smiled, coldly, glanced down at the Beast – a cat, mottled black and pale, the actual colour leached to nothingness in the starlight – and sent it away with the flick of her fingers. “So, it’s you.”

James raised his eyebrows, uncertain of her meaning. “What do you want?”

“I want… wanted… the little monk.” She stepped closer, fearless. “But you ruined him. I needed him pure. Untainted.”

Something tingled along his spine. He felt an itch, deep under his skin. James swallowed and stepped back, spreading his hands in a gesture of peace. “Leave the village alone. There’s nothing here for you.” He felt a dizziness sweep over him, and pushed it away. “Leave, and I’ll let you go.”

“You’ll let me go.” Her voice mocked him. She laughed, and lifted her chin, her nostrils flaring in a way that was intimately – shockingly – familiar to James. “There’s nothing here for me? Are you sure?” She took another step.

“No.” His voice lacked any conviction. He repeated, “Leave and I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t want to go.” She was close enough to touch. “Come with me. I don’t care about the village. Neither do you.” She raised a hand to caress his cheek and James leaned into it, his mouth dry with longing. His eyes closed as her lips brushed teasingly against his. “Come with me.”

He raised his hands to push her away, but she met them, her palms to his, fingers twining. Her mouth tasted of herbs, bitter and pungent.

“James?” The voice – Blair’s voice – broke through the fog of desire. “James, what are you-”

She had his dagger, withdrawn unnoticed from the sheath at his hip. His drawn sword lay forgotten on the ground beside him. Her hand was poised to throw. He had little doubt that she was skilled; he sensed that, like him, she was a warrior. At this distance she could hardly miss. Blair was silent, his hands palm outwards at his side. Waiting.

“No.” James put his hand over hers. She hissed angrily. “No.”

The dagger fell and she pulled away, running along the edge of the fish pond with an easy, athlete’s gait. James watched, numbly, before bending down to retrieve his weapons.

***

The hearth fire was warm, but James was cold. He accepted the mug Blair handed him and cupped it in his palms without tasting the contents. It smelled of alcohol.

He was sitting on Blair’s one chair, and Blair on the borrowed stool. The table lay between them. Blair sipped from his mug and watched James, trying not to be obvious about it but not succeeding. Finally, he set the mug down. “Who is she, James?”

“I don’t know.” At Blair’s impatient exclamation, he held up a placating hand. “I don’t know who she is, but I know what she is.” As impossible as it might seem. “She’s like me.”

“A sentinel.” Blair’s incredulous tone brought a wry smile to James’ face. “Women can’t be sentinels. It’s unheard of.”

“Not unheard of, just very, very rare.”  James rubbed his temples which had started to throb. “Male sentinels are rare enough, but women… perhaps one in a generation. And most of them mentally unstable. Whether it’s because they usually aren’t recognised for what they are until it’s too late to train them, or whether it’s something in their breeding, nobody knows.”

In fact, nobody truly understood sentinel breeding. It ran in families, sure enough; everybody knew that. But the abilities often skipped generations before manifesting again. All that was known for certain was that female sentinels were only born to parents who were both descendants of sentinels, and that it didn’t seem to matter whether the parents themselves were sentinels.

Blair nodded sympthetically. “What can we do? How can we help her?”

“We can stop her.” James said grimly. “She’s gone rogue. I think she’s already insane. To terrorise a village as she has, to attempt to kill a cleric? At best, she’ll have to be locked away. If I can capture her.”

“And at worst?” Blair saw the answer in his face. “James… he rubbed a hand over his face. “Can you capture her? It didn’t look like that was what you were intending.”

Heat scorched his face. “I have to stop her. But I feel… I want to protect her. I’ve heard stories… but I never imagined…”

“There’s only one night remaining, James.” Blair laid his hand over James’. “She may not even come back. If she goes to another village-”

“She won’t. She’ll come back here.” He was absolutely certain of it. Whatever he was feeling, she was just as caught up in it as he was. “I have to be ready for her.”

Blair smiled faintly. “Then you’d better sleep.”

He nodded wearily, and stood up, moving away towards his bed, shedding his tunic as he went. He stripped quickly, wanting only to sleep, and perhaps to Share. But when Blair undressed, he went to his own bed for the first time since they’d arrived in the village.

***

Night came much too soon for James. He’d spent the day practicing his drills, honing his weapons and looking after Ranier. If nothing else, the routine soothed him, but he had little confidence that any of it would aid him in the confrontation he would face. At least this time, he had some small hope that Blair would remain in his cottage. His presence seemed only to inflame the woman’s anger.

As daylight faded, he made his way to the place where he’d met her. The place where she’d attempted to kill Blair. Where, actually, she _had_ killed Blair.

She came silently, appearing between one heartbeat and another. Beside her was the Beast, its lip wrinkled back to reveal its fangs. James felt a presence beside him and looked down to see his own shadowy companion. It all made sense now. He’d learned about these spirit animals, though he’d never expected or wanted to have one of his own. He heard a soft whine, and saw a wolf, pacing restlessly, some distance away. If it was Blair’s spirit, what did that mean? Certainly not that he was a sentinel, James would have seen the signs of it by now.

Putting aside that issue for the moment, James focused on the woman. He felt that same tug of protectiveness and desire, but so far he was able to resist. If he was lucky, perhaps he could persuade her to come quietly. If it came to a fight he wasn’t sure he could win.

He smiled, trying to project a calm welcome. “What is your name?”

“Alix.” She sounded amused. “And what is yours?”

“James.” He gestured towards the village. “I’m here to protect the villagers. The ones you’ve been terrorising.”

“They’re unimportant.” Her gaze never left him. “Do you think you can defeat me? You won’t.”

“I hope I won’t have to. Alix, I know what you are. Come with me.” James lowered his voice a little. “We can be together and you can get help, training for your powers. We can do it together.” 

“I don’t need help.” Her voice rang out scornfully. “I’ve come to help _you_ , James. See?” She swung a small pack from her shoulder and took out a small glass jar with a sealed stopper. “These herbs have strengthened my powers. They will do the same for you. You’ll see things you never imagined.”

James heart sank. Alix was even further gone than he’d realised. He knew about the kind of herbs she was using. They might enhance a sentinel’s powers, for a brief period, but at the risk of madness. It sounded as though she’d been taking them for a long time. “I… I don’t need them. You don’t either. Come with me.” He held out his hand, invitation and plea. “Alix, I can help you. Those herbs can be dangerous. You don’t need them.”

Alix snarled, and the spirit animal beside her. “You’re lying!” she wrenched the stopper from the jar. “You’ll see! I’ll show you.” It took only a couple of swallows to empty the small jar. Alix wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and smiled sensuously. “Forget about _him_. You don’t need him when you have me. We can unite our vision. We can rule-”

“Alix.” He took a step towards her, his heart pounding. “Yes, let’s do that. Tell me how.” Another step. He could feel his determination unravelling. It would be so easy to join her in her madness.

Her eyes were glazed, but James was under no illusion. She was no less dangerous, under the drug’s influence. And still he felt that urge to protect her, to mate with her. The edges of his vision shimmered with the effort he was making to keep his rationality.

“James?” Her voice slurred a little. “We’ll cleanse the world, James. There’s so much I can show you.”

He caught her hand, let her pull him towards her. Her strength was extraordinary. They kissed again, the taste of the herbs stronger now. James could feel the tingle of their influence. A stinging sensation distracted him and he stepped back, raising his hand to his neck. “What have you-”

Her laughter followed him into the darkness.

***

James woke to a faint flickering of candlelight and the trickling sound of water. Whatever drug she had used to defeat him, it had left him unable to move his limbs, which felt heavy, the muscles slack and unresponsive. He turned his head, and saw Blair, hands and ankles bound, lying a little distance away; unconscous. Behind him was a rock surface reaching far up into the darkness. A cave, obviously, though neither Blair nor the villagers had mentioned any caves nearby.

How had Alix got both of them here? Neither of them were lightweights – he could only imagine that her madness had given her a strength beyond her slim frame’s natural ability.

More importantly, where was she?

He saw the Beast first, then heard Alix’s boots crunching the fine gravel of the cave’s floor. A quiet gasp told him that Blair had awakened, but James was straining his sight towards Alix, using the one sense to strengthen the other, and Blair was behind him. He would have to set aside his concern for Blair’s safety and concentrate all his determination on the confrontation with Alix.

She knelt beside him, holding a rough pottery beaker. It stank of the same herbs he’d smelled on her breath, and he flinched away. She smiled. “You’ll understand once you’ve seen as I see.”

“No!” James tried to resist her, but could only clench his jaw weakly; she easily prised his mouth open with her fingers and poured the bitter liquid between his lips. He choked, managing to spit some of it out, and more dribbled from the corners of his mouth, but he was forced to swallow most of it, and it set his head to swimming within seconds.

He fell into an abyss of nightmare; of fire and death and hallucination. He heard his own voice, screaming denial, and Blair’s, encouraging; soothing him, though the words were meaningless. Eventually, James found a way to hold to the sound of Blair’s voice and to allow it to guide him free of the nightmare. He blinked eyes dry and sore from blindly staring and turned his head towards Blair.

“James, are you all right?” Blair’s voice sounded rough, as though he’d been talking for hours. “She took some of the drug too, but she’ll be coming out of it soon.”

He found he could move, a little. He pushed himself up, unsteadily, and stretched out his arms, trying to work some strength into them. His legs still  felt numb, but he managed to get to his feet and take the few steps necessary to reach Blair. His fingers fumbled with the ropes at his wrist, but somehow he got the knots partly undone and Blair was able to loosen their grip and slide his hands free.

“Now you understand. Now you see as I see.” Alix’s voice came from behind him; she sounded dazed and weak. “We can unite. We can cleanse the world…”

James found himself moving towards her, instinct reasserting itself. But something was different now; Alix was different. She came to him, lifting her hands in the same gesture she’d used the night before. He met her, their flingers linked, and he leaned in, but desire had fled. There was a wrongness about her now. They both sensed it at the same time and Alix cried out in denial. She stumbled, her legs failing her, and fell against James’ chest. He held her, torn between relief and bitter guilt as the light faded from her eyes.

***

It was morning before the villagers came to carry Alix from the cave, led there by Blair. James had barely left her side. She still lived, but made no response to his voice or his touch; her eyes open and blank, seemed to look into infinity.

Both James and Blair were stumbling with exhaustion by the time they reached the village. There were so many things they needed to talk about, but with Alix under his care, there was no possibility of delay. Tamis had arranged for the loan of a small cart to carry Alix to the Jehanne monastery, where the Brothers and Sisters cared for the sick and the mad alike. James would accompany her there. Then he would, in duty, be bound to return to the chapterhouse as quickly as possible.

With such a public farewell, it was impossible to do more than utter formal thanks for hospitality and a stilted benevolence. Blair’s polite response was no less formal. It was unlikely they would ever meet again.

Even Rainier, usually restless after three days of little activity, seemed subdued as Blair offered his wishes to the steed for a safe, easy journey. He patted Rainier’s nose a last time with the barest flicker of a smile in James’ direction. “And take care of our friend here.”

“Are you talking to him or to me?” James found his mood lightening just a little.

Blair smiled again, but gave no answer.

***

The journey baack to the chapterhouse by way of the Jehanne monastery was every bit as wearisome as James had expected. Once there, he made his report to the Brother Abbots, Simon and Joel, and received their blessing and release back to his normal duties. These, he flung himself into with a determination to put behind him the unsettling events of Ealdridge. For a month, no Brother Knight prayed more sincerely at his Devotions, or fought more intensely at weapons practice, yet in his cell sleep evaded him, or worse, came with nightmarish visions of the cave and of Brother Blair floating face down in the water.

He knew – he was a sentinel, after all – that his brother knights were talking about him, but could not bring himself to care. Instead, he saddled Rainier and rode out whenever possible, finding what consolation he could in being alone. When the summons came from Abbots Simon and Joel to attend them in their office, it was no surprise. James tidied himself, checking that his uniform was immaculate, and went to the meeting with a heavy heart.

As was usual, Abbot Simon greeted James with an irritated frown, and Abbot Joel with a warm smile. They were, thought James, a perfect illustration of the differences between a Knight Sentinel and a Knight Companion. He nodded politely and fixed his gaze on the highly polished tips of his boots, ignoring the other man present. He tried not to think about the last time he’d been called to this office to meet a sranger.

This one could not have been more different from Brother Blair, although they were of a similar height and build. This one had short, lightly curling hair and wore the black uniform of a Knight Companion, similar in almost all respects to the one James wore, with only the insignia to distiguish his allegiance to the brother order.

The Companion was facing the two abbots, like James himself, but he spared a brief glance in James’ direction. For a moment, James thought that his heart had entirely stopped beating, then it started again with a mighty thud.

Abbot Simon cleared his throat, noisily and Abbot Joel chuckled. “Brother James, I’d like to present to you our new initiate. Brother Blair has requested to take his vows with the Order of Knights Companion. Of course, usually he would undertake a period of contemplation in preparation for taking his full vows, but in view of his years with the Scoan Order, I have waived the requirement. He will take his vows tomorrow morning, after his vigil.”

With their eyes on him, James managed to mutter some kind of response, although whether it made any sense at all, he could not afterwards remember.

“Since you are already known to Brother Blair…” Simon waited for a long moment while James forced himself to turn his head and look at his Abbot. “Yes, well… we thought that perhaps you could… uh… show him around.”

“Settle him in.” Joel offered, helpfully, his eyes twinkling.

“Uh… yes. Of course.” James realised he’d been staring at Blair again, his jaw hanging open a little. “Brother Blair?”

Blair smiled. “Thank you, Brother James.”

As they left the office, James heard his Abbot – as he was probably meant to – say, “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

He closed the heavy door quietly behind him and walked beside Blair towards the chapel. There was a hallway leading off to the east, just a few steps ahead of them. He took hold of Blair’s arm and drew him into the opening.

Blair’s hair felt soft and ticklish against his palms and Blair’s mouth tasted of the sweet, spiced wine Simon liked to offer his favoured guests. It was a long time before either of them drew breath.

James looked down at Blair’s face, still framed between his hands. He looked quite different with his hair curling softly around his face instead of drawn back into a braid. He brushed a thumb over the swollen bottom lip and said, helplessly, “You’ve cut your hair.”

Blair laughed a little breathlessly, his eyes unusually bright. “I found my true vocation.”

 

 


End file.
